


The Lullaby

by Filigranka



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Dark(ish)!Aredhel, Gen, Pre-Relationship, Present Tense, Schrödinger AU ;)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 14:21:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17899757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filigranka/pseuds/Filigranka
Summary: To quote kimaracretak "Thuringwethil finds out the hard way that she's not the most dangerous thing in the woods."





	The Lullaby

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kimaracretak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimaracretak/gifts).



> I missed CB reveals, which is entirely my fault, and didn't force them to kiss on the screen, buuut I hope you'll enjoy it.
> 
> Thanks for Silly Goose for helping me with the grammar and other might English beasts. <3

 

Thuringwethil hums through the night. Her song creates substance from darkness and gives shape to the shadows. Thuringwethil’s hum discovers – the trees, the rivers, the spiders’ webs, thin like hair. Thuringwethil hums, flies and is free—

And then suddenly she’s not; she’s captured in a net of sorts, her force diminished, her path closed, her humming more like a squeak, dead in her throat.

‘My, my, what an unusual bat we have here.’ There’s the voice. An Elven maiden’s voice, high, yet velvety. Thin and smooth, Thuringwethil pictures it. Like spider’s silk. ‘What sort of a creature are you, Morgoth-spawn?’

‘Many,’ she answers, ritually. ‘For I am a shadow and the shadow can take any form.’

There’s laughter, ringing in Thuringwethil’s ears like a storm. ‘Not at all. The shadow can only take one form: of the thing which cast it. The shadow can only mirror the moves and the forms of its master. You’re but a slave of Morgoth.’

Pride, realises Thuringwethil. Her captor is prideful — and this, like her Master taught her, is the downfall of many beings.

‘Free me and let me show you how useful a servant the shadows can be.’

‘I’ve no use for slaves and devotion born from chains.’

Even void of her song, half-deaf and panicking, Thuringwethil can hear layers in the Elven voice. Not hesitation, more like bitterness.

‘Do you desire freedom, then?

‘I’d say I’m more free than you, slave of Morgoth. I can hunt, run, and dance freely through these lands and forests, while you’re struggling in my trap.’

Roam freely – these lands and these forests – freely – this forest – ah.

‘You’re more free than I am, but far from free, aren’t you? Limited is the freedom of those who can roam just this forest. So many different, beautiful places I have visited in my travels! I know the paths inside and outside this forest, and I know the path out of it. Strike a deal with me, O fair Elven Lady—’ Thuringwethil licks her lips; she hasn’t been interrupted – it’s a good sign. ‘—and I’ll lead you out of _these forests_ and into much fairer lands.’

The silence stretches thin – spider’s web, spider’s web – interrupted only by the elf’s quickened heartbeat and her deep breaths, too even not to be tightly controlled. For a moment Thuringwethil’s afraid she’s made a mistake. But then the elf speaks:

‘Creatures like you need blood. Have this.’ And there’s the sweetest smell of blood, and some freshly killed animal – a rabbit – is thrown between Thuringwethil’s bound claws. ‘It won’t do for you to grow too weak to serve, Morgoth’s slave, before I decide what to do with you.’

Then she’s gone, but Thuringwethil isn’t worried about it. She has the rabbit to suck blood and marrow from. She won’t be hungry or thirsty, and this soothes her. And she’s sure the elf will be back, sooner rather than later, full of doubts and dreams about freedom.

Thuringwethil can’t hum her music properly, not in this enchanted net, but it doesn’t matter. She starts singing anyway, just a small, broken, whiny sound, the lullaby of the lost shadow-ling, crying for mother darkness.


End file.
